


Playthings

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, M/M, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artie's name is called out at the Reaping and Sam volunteers to take his place. PLEASE read the author's note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playthings

**Author's Note:**

> There COULD be major character death. Because of the nature of the fic, I don't want to say whether or not there is, but if you really want to know, message me here or on tumblr (same URL as here)

            Artie couldn’t see Sam at the Reaping.  It made him nervous.  Sam had taken the tessera multiple times, so he was more likely to be picked than Artie was.  Just being together wouldn’t keep him from getting chosen, of course, but it would make Artie feel better.  They had to make it through this Reaping.  Their last.

            The speaker made some speech about how excited they all should be and how honored the Tributes would be to serve as representatives of District 6.  Bullshit, all of this.  The female tribute was called.  There were muffled cries from the family and sighs of relief from everyone else. 

            “And your male tribute for this year’s Hunger Games is: Arthur Abrams!” she calls out happily.

            The Peacekeepers came and started pushing him as he looked around in confusion.  This couldn’t be happening.  He couldn’t walk which meant he had no chance of surviving, unless it was a water arena again.  Artie could tell where Sam was because he was yelling and trying to get to him.  No matter how hard he tried, Artie couldn’t get a look at him as the Peacekeepers kept pushing him.  At least he knew that Sam would be safe.  Not that he wanted to die, but it was some consolation. 

            “Take me!” Sam yelled.  What?  No!  He was not allowed to die for Artie’s sake.  “I’m volunteering!”

            The Peacekeepers released their hold on Artie as they turned their attention to Sam.  Finally, he caught sight of Sam, being dragged up the podium.  For some reason, he was allowed to push to the front (later he’d see the footage on the broadcast, their lives a tragic tale for the world to see) to yell at Sam and beg them to take him instead.  They locked eyes and Sam was apologizing, but Artie just wanted him safe back in his arms.  Just like that, Sam was hauled away.

            The crowd dispersed, leaving Artie sitting there.  He knew that he had to get to the town hall so he could see him.  Artie ignored the stares and whispers.  Yup, he’s the one who killed Sam Evans just days before his birthday.  Getting to the town hall was more important than what people were saying.  He had to ignore them.  Sam was there, and maybe Artie could somehow convince whoever was in charge to retract Sam’s volunteering. 

            Some Capitol scumbag let him in to see Sam when he got there, smirking at him.  Sam sat on a couch, staring out the window, when Artie rolled in.  He started, and Artie could see the fear in his eyes even if he was trying to hide it.

            “Why did you do it?” Artie asked him.

            “There was almost no way you could come back to me.  I’ll come back to you,” Sam said simply.

            “What about Stacy?  And Stevie?  And you don’t know that you’ll come back.  I love you, and I’m going to see if they’ll let us switch,” Artie opened his arms so Sam could sit in his lap.  He swallowed a lump in his throat as he thought that this could be the last time he would get to hold Sam like this.

            “I know you’ll take care of them.  No one there will have an Artie to come back to, so no one will want to win as much.  I’m strong and fast, but Arthur Abrams, you will not switch back,” Sam said.  “I love you too.  Besides, they won’t let you.  This whole thing is about showmanship as much as anything.  Me volunteering for you is a better story than you just going.  They’re even letting us stay the night together.  A special exception for the young lovers, they said.”

            “I don’t like playing their game,” Artie said quietly.  “I do like having one more night with you though.”

            Sam tilted Artie’s chin up so they were eye to eye.  “If the people in the Capitol root for us, then they’ll sponsor me,” he kissed him softly.  “Besides, there’s a lot we can do in one night… if you want to.”

            They had been planning to wait until after they had both turned eighteen to have sex- a celebration of sorts.  Holding off was supposed to make it easier if this happened.  Artie was regretting that decision. 

            “I do,” Artie said, holding him close.  Sam buried his face in Artie’s neck and Artie felt his tears as he stroked his hair.  They sat there, rocking back and forth, until there was a knock on the door and Sam’s family came in.  “I should go.  I’ll come back later.”

            Sam kissed Artie’s cheek as he got up. 

            “You should go,” Sam’s father said viciously.  “But you shouldn’t come back.  I don’t want to see your face anywhere near my family again.”

            Artie nodded and left quietly, listening to the shouts behind him as Sam argued with his family that he had made the right choice.

            When he reached home, his parents tried to comfort him, but he shook them off.  Artie needed to get himself as put together as he could for Sam.  He took a bath to make sure that he’d be clean and pulled out a clean set of clothing.  It was nothing special, but it was clean, which was something of a rarity.  Sam wouldn’t want him to go to the trouble of getting dressed up. A Peacekeeper came to get him and everyone stared at them as they passed through town, whispering after they had passed. 

            They reached the town hall and he was taken to a small room with a bed and his Sam, who perked up at the sight of him.  “You can go now,” Sam said coldly to the Peacekeeper, who grunted as he left.  He didn’t go far, though, and Artie could hear him right outside their door.  Whatever.  Normally, Sam would already be gone if it wasn’t for the juicy story.  “Just you and me for the rest of the night.”

            “Okay,” Artie said, smiling a little.  “I’m all yours.”  Sam patted the space on the bed next to him, but Artie transferred right into his arms.  That was where he’d rather be anyway.  “I’ll take good care of them,” Artie whispered in Sam’s ear. 

            “I know,” Sam ran his hand down Artie’s spine, slipping his hand under his shirt.  “No matter what, don’t feel guilty.”

            Artie kissed him softly.  Guilt would be inevitable.  He wanted to be able to promise Sam what he wanted, but he couldn’t.  “You just don’t give me anything to feel guilty about.”

            Sam smiled and nodded.  As Sam started kissing him, Artie couldn’t help but wonder if the Capitol is watching them even then.  After all, some of this must make good viewing or whatever.  It didn’t really matter since this could be their last time together.  Artie wasn’t going to let the Capitol take it away from them. 

            They spend the night talking about not much of anything and slowly undressing each other until they were both naked and Sam is sinking down on Artie’s dick.  Turned out that Sam was a noisy guy when they were together.  It made Artie smile, glad that he could do something to make Sam feel good before he killed him. 

            In the morning, a Peacekeeper pounded on their door to let them know they had to be ready in five minutes.  When he came back, they were both dressed and as ready as they could be.  They were marched to a platform where a train was waiting to take Sam away from him after a nice, public goodbye for the cameras.  Artie kept reminding himself that even though they were being used by the Capitol, at least they got a little more time with each other, and it gave Sam a better chance of coming home.

            “I love you,” Artie finally said.  He pulled off the fingerless gloves he always wore.  Sam had gotten them for him for his birthday one year.  “You get to take something with you, right?  Here.  I want these back though.”

            Sam refused to take them.  “Artie, you won’t be able to get another pair.  Your hands will get wrecked again.”

            “It’ll only be for a little bit.  You’re coming back to me, remember?” Artie pressed them into Sam’s hand.  Sam was taking them whether he wanted them or not.  Besides, Artie deserved to have his hands wrecked, especially if Sam didn’t come back. 

            Reluctantly, Sam took them and slipped them on.  They were good fit; they had been kind of large for Artie anyway.  “Thank you, Artie.”  If it wasn’t such a serious moment, Artie would have snorted.  Only Sam would thank Artie for such a pitiful offering before going off and dying.  “And I love you too.  Everything is going to be fine.”

            Artie bit his lip and nodded.  There was no point in arguing.  Sam bent down and kissed him gently.  The kiss became more intense, both of them wanting it to last.  The Peacekeepers yanked Sam roughly away before they even had the chance to pull apart.  Artie tried to follow him and Sam fought to get back, but there was nothing either of them to do.  He sat and watched, pushed back in his seat by Peacekeepers, as Sam was practically thrown into the train.  It whisked him away and the Peacekeepers released Artie.  Everyone dispersed, going back to their lives and leaving Artie sitting on the stage alone.  Wincing a little from the pain in his newly gloveless hands, Artie started pushing himself back home.

            People whispered as he passed, but Artie had dealt with it all before.  He had bigger problems than what people had to say about him, but there was nothing he could do about any of them. 

            A day or two later, the tributes and Sam (Artie hated thinking of Sam as a tribute) were paraded in front of the world, all dressed up in bizarre costumes.  Sam was cleaner than Artie had ever seen him and smiling widely as he waved at the crowds.  Artie was pretty sure that he was the only one who could tell how uncomfortable Sam was.  The costume left little to the imagination and Artie knew how much Sam hated how he looked.  Sam was good at hiding how he felt, though.  Just never to Artie.

            Artie wanted to keep his eyes on Sam the whole time, but he also needed to assess the competition.  The Careers scared him, of course, because they were raised to kill.  The girl from their district scared him, just because he knew that killing would be hard for Sam, and killing someone he knew would be harder.  There was also a boy from ten who just looked creepy.  He didn’t like the look of any of them.  Unsurprising. 

            They were whisked away to get prepared for their interviews and Artie watched the commentary from the Capitol intently.  Sam was definitely the big story of the year, and, well, Artie too.  It was creepy how much they could dig up about the both of them.  The exact circumstances of Artie’s accident, the way they met, the games Sam used to play with his siblings, everything.  Artie didn’t think that Sam would have told them quite this much, at least not so quickly. 

            Eventually, the interviews started.  Artie took cursory notes on the competition in his head, but really, he just wanted to see Sam again.   When Sam stepped up on the stage and sat down, Artie couldn’t help but grin.  There was his man, and he looked good dressed up right.  He looked more relaxed than Artie had seen him since their night together (not that he had seen Sam all that much), and Sam almost never had a problem getting people to like him. 

            “You caused quite a stir since not only did you volunteer, you volunteered for someone who you weren’t even related to.  Care to talk about that?” The interviewer asked, a clip of them from the Reaping shown behind him.

            “Artie and I have been together for a couple years now.  We were friends at first, but then,” Sam shrugged, grinning a little.  “But we promised to always keep each other safe.  He always made good on his promise.  It was just my turn.”

            “You two do seem very much in love,” A clip from their last night flashed up.  They’re naked, but everything is covered by the sheets.  Sam had been laying there while Artie was propped up on one arm, tracing random patterns on Sam’s chest while they talked.  Seeing it up there made Artie want to throw up.  “And I see he even gave you a token.”

            Sam tugged at the gloves.  “Yeah.  Artie is really sweet like that.  But he made me promise to give them back.  And that’s what I’m going to do.  Bring the man I love his gloves back.”  He grinned at the camera and waved at the crowds cheering for him.  Artie was pretty sure that Sam had succeeded at getting the people to like him.  With one last bow, Sam exited the stage.

            “If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t even have to play up this charade,” a voice behind him hissed.  Artie whipped around in his chair, but couldn’t see who had said it.  The words hurt because they were partially true, but the falsity hurt too.  Sam’s love for him had never been a charade, no matter what people thought.  Artie sat up straight and squared his jaw, trying not to let it get to him.  This was going to be difficult enough as it was. 

            With his jaw clenched, Artie watched the coverage the rest of the night.

            Artie was up at the crack of dawn the first day of the games.  With an overwhelming feeling of dread, he got ready to watch the start with the rest of the community.  He sat right up front, ignoring the glares from Sam’s parents as his eyes were fixed on the big screens.  If anything were to happen to Sam, Artie hoped they would let him help.  His family was better off, and he had always tried to help whenever he could (Sam refused charity, but Artie insisted sometimes).  Without his help, one of Sam’s siblings would end up having to take the tessera like Sam had.  Artie wasn’t going to let that happen.

            The tributes and Sam rose up out of the ground on their platforms, scanning the field to try to get their bearings in less than one minute.  It looked like a dessert, arid and without much plant life.  There were a couple weapons near Sam and pack that looked like it was full of supplies. 

            Artie held his breath as the clock counted down.  When it reached zero, Sam darted for one of the weapons and barely managed to stave off an attack to grab the pack.  He ran away from the group as quickly as he could, and only when he slowed did Artie realize that Sam hadn’t completely blocked the attack.  Sam was limping.  Artie couldn’t see any blood, so he hoped that it was something minor that could just be walked off instead of something more serious.  Knowing that Sam had at least survived the Cornucopia, Artie released his breath.  Listening as the cannon sounded, Artie counted twelve deaths.  That meant eleven more and Sam would come back. 

            No one else died for the rest of the day, everyone retreating to their own little corners.  Sam had met up with another guy and they switched off keeping watch.  Whenever the screen switched to someone else, Artie almost screamed.  He only wanted to see other people if they were doing something that would affect Sam. 

            When Artie finally woke up after a fitful night of sleep, he pushed himself to the screens.  The only other people there were Sam’s family.  His parents pointedly didn’t look at him, but Stevie and Stacy kept shooting glances at him.  It wasn’t long before Stacy ran over to him though.  Mrs. Evans was glaring at him, but Artie couldn’t ignore Stacy trying to crawl up into his lap for a hug.  She pulled back to look him in the eyes.  “They took Sammy,” she said softly.  “He might not come home.  Mommy said it’s your fault, but you’d never hurt him.”

            Artie had never felt like a bigger piece of garbage.  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment because he had to be strong for Stacy, which meant he had to keep from crying.  “They were going to take me, but Sam told them to take him instead because he loves me very much.”

            “Does that mean he doesn’t love me?” Stacy asked.

            “Sam will always love you and Stevie and your parents.  He just wanted to keep me safe.  If anything happens to him, I’m going to help keep you safe,” Artie replied in a small voice.

            “Okay,” Stacy settled into his lap to watch.  Whatever injury Sam sustained the day before was still affecting him.  His partner hadn’t betrayed him in the night though.  They started moving, probably looking for water.  It looked like it was getting hot already; no matter who the cameras watched, everyone was dripping in sweat.  Sam and his partner were closest to the water, but heading in the wrong direction.  “Artie, make him go the other way.”

            “I can’t, Stacy,” Artie whispered, staring at the screen and wishing that he could somehow communicate with him.  It wasn’t just that.  He was headed right towards another tribute.  Stacy hid her face in Artie’s shoulder right before they met, and Artie automatically wrapped his arms around her.  It was a quick fight, but the other tribute killed Sam’s partner before Sam ultimately killed him.  “He’s okay,” he told her, not quite sure that was true.  Sam’s clothes were splattered with blood and he looked absolutely distraught as he stumbled away. 

            “I’ll just stay here,” Stacy mumbled into his shoulder.  Artie kissed the top of her head and squeezed her a little.  They had always been kind of close.  Sometimes Sam would take Stevie to play and Stacy would decide to sit with Artie to talk instead.  Artie knew all about the gossip of the nine year olds.  “I don’t want to watch.”

            “Okay.  You don’t have to move.” Artie said, looking at Sam’s parents.  They were still eyeing him with distrust, but when he looked down at Stacy with a sad look, they reluctantly nodded and turned away. 

            People gradually filtered in to watch, skirting around them.  Sam slowed down from his initial panic after his kill to settle against a rock, head in hands.  Artie knew that Sam was not- could never be- ready to kill someone.  Eventually, he shook it off and got up, starting to circle around.  Hours later, it became obvious that the heat combined with the lack of water was getting to him. 

            Then, a silver parachute fell in front of Sam.  The strategy had helped, somewhat!  Sam had a sponsor of some sort, which rarely happened in his district.  He opened the container to find water and some kind of medicine.  Sipping the water slowly, he examined the medicine, then carefully applied it to his sore leg.  It helped and Sam’s limp left him.  Artie sighed in relief.  Water and Sam was back in good shape. 

“It’s going to be okay Stacy.  Sammy is much better,” Artie murmured to her.  She had spent all afternoon with her face buried in his shoulder. 

            Just as she turned to look up at the screen, some kind of muttation appeared.  Grotesquely monstrous, it slashed at Sam with an arm.  He was caught by surprise and knocked over.  Stacy screamed and Artie pulled her close again, muffling her cries of “You said he was okay!” in his sweater.  The muttation was slow, however, so Sam had plenty of time to dart out of the way as it came down at him with its tail.  He slashed at it, cutting the tail off.  It came at him again, and Sam stabbed up just as the mutt hit him again.  They both fell backwards, motionless.  The creature was clearly dead.  Sam however… Artie couldn’t tell.  He would have thought so, but the telltale cannon never boomed. 

            Sam was still lying motionless when the screens went dark for the night.  The crowd dispersed until it was just Artie, Stacy, and the rest of the Evans’. 

            Artie stared at them awkwardly, still holding their daughter.  “I never wanted him to do this,” he finally said.  “I still don’t want him to be in there instead of me.”  Looking around to make sure that no one was too near, he whispered, “We’re all victims of the Capitol.  They want us to fight.”  Possibly treasonous words, but he needed to be able to help Stacy and Stevie, and that couldn’t happen unless their parents saw sense. 

            They nodded at him with clear reluctance.  “I don’t forgive you.  But we can get along with you for their sakes,” Mr. Evans finally said.

            “I agree.”

            “Fine.  That’s all I want,” Artie agreed.  It was going to be a process.  Not that he didn’t care about Sam’s parents too, but Stacy and Stevie were his top priority. 

            “Come on, Stacy, we have to go home now,” Mrs. Evans said, pulling at her gently. 

            “I don’t want to go home,” Stacy protested, clutching Artie’s sweater.  “I just don’t.”

            “Stacy, we’ve gotta be brave for Sammy,” Artie said.  He gently removed her hands from his sweater.  “Okay?  It’s hard, but we can do it.  I’ll be right here tomorrow.”

            Reluctantly, she got off Artie’s lap and grabbed onto Stevie’s hand.  “Tomorrow.”

            Sam was still out when they returned the next day, but two more tributes had evidentially died in the night.  Seven more.  “Why won’t he wake up?” Artie whispered to himself.

            Stacy crawled up into his lap, silent.  Mutts and tributes were on the prowl around him and if he didn’t get up soon, Artie feared that Sam would go down without a fight.  Maybe it would be painless, at least. 

            “I don’t want you to look, okay?” Artie said.  “I’ll tell you what happens.”

            Looking briefly over at Stevie, who was resolutely not watching the screen, Stacy nodded and resumed her curled up state from the day before. “I don’t want to look anyway.”

            As the careers neared him, Artie held his breath again.  They couldn’t kill his Sam.  They couldn’t.   He looked so peaceful.  That Sam could look so calm in such a place didn’t make any sense to Artie, but he did.

            The careers saw Sam and began approaching him carefully.  The three of them surrounded him.  One nudged him with her foot before kicking him hard.  That woke him up.  Sam curled into a ball as they kept kicking him.  Artie was pretty sure he could hear bones breaking. 

            Sam rolled into one of them, knocking her over.  She took a couple of the kicks, giving Sam just enough time to begin to scamper away, pack in hand.  The other female career threw her knife at him.  For a minute it was unclear what happened, but then Sam started coughing up blood.  He coughed a few times and fell over.  The cannon went off and those bastards celebrated around Sam’s body, high fiving and everything.  Once they calmed down, they took his pack, checked the rest of him over for anything valuable (and Artie wanted to scream or yell because they were touching his Sam and he knew Sam doesn’t want to be touched by strangers.  Present tense because he isn’t really dead. It has to be a trick) before running off.

            “Stacy…” Artie started before his voice cracked and he couldn’t go on. 

            She looked up at him fearfully.  He just nodded a little and she started to cry.

            “I’m sorry,” Artie whispered into her hair.  “I’m sorry.”  He couldn’t stop saying it because he had just killed his Sam and there was no way that could ever be okay. 

            Stacy pulled back and hit him lightly.  “No.  Not… not sorry.”  Artie shut up.  He didn’t want to upset her more.  “Be brave for Sammy.”

            Despite himself, Artie smiled a little and nodded.  He wiped some of the tears out of her eyes.  “Yeah, we will.”

            A couple days later, he pushes himself into his bedroom after Sam’s funeral and his blood spattered gloves are sitting on his bed and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

            A couple years later, Stacy and Stevie’s names are called and Artie actually does throw up.


End file.
